


Old Friends

by Meloncholor



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, They're good buddies, They're in a relationship if you squint, and small lithe fancy man, big scary buff man, i love this thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meloncholor/pseuds/Meloncholor
Summary: Trefor Molloye returns to the Belmont estate.





	Old Friends

Leon Belmont was a man of many self-proclaimed talents: a wine connoisseur, an excellent surveyor, had perfect pitch, and could identify seven different cheeses with a single whiff from thirty paces. In Wallachia he was received well by the populace, his real talents (killing demons) were especially hailed by the church. Shortly after arriving and building his massive estate he ego grew even more, but to cut through the bullshit and to really understand the egotistical enigma that was Leon Belmont, you needed to speak to Trefor.

Unlike the lithe figure of the lackadaisical frenchman, Trefor Malloye was wide and burly. He could shoot the wings off a hummingbird, but could tame a pack of wolves with a crust of bread and a few kind words. In the words of a Wallachian speaker, who had followed them on an expedition north. “No two men were of such dissimilar body, and of such one mind.” The Wallachians had never encountered a Celt within their own borders before, and were surprised to see such a gruff man with such a refined gentleman.

 

-0-

 

“Belmont!” His voice echoed throughout the halls of the new estate, he had barely come fully through the oak front doors before he was lumbering in the foyer like a bear in search of an easy kill. The house was much more decorated than the last time he was here. Marble pots of flowers, and various painting now lined all the walls. Trefor stood out in such a tailored environment, in his plate armor and long coat. His face paint had begun to wear off earlier that morning, and he wore a raccoon-like darkness under his eyes. “Belmont!” He shouted again, turning about the large room. Before landing his eyes on the portrait of his comrade above the entrance. “What a fucken ass.”  He barks out, Trefor half-expected Leon in nude repose, but a portrait of himself above the door of his own home? Tacky. A stout woman, wizened and very familiar with the tendencies of the small giant tottled in to greet him through the westward door. 

“Ah mister Molloye!” She grit through a half-hearted smile, her accent was still french. “Won’t you please be a dear and come in?” She gestured in the direction she just came from. Desperately trying to wave him in.

He snorted in response, adjusting the thick belt wrapped around his middle. “Where’s Belmont?” His hair was tied in a thick black braid, pulling the hair away from his face so he could effectively glower into the woman’s eyes.

“He’s in a meeting. We’ll be having no more of your bullshit when you come inside, now please be a dear and sit in the solar and wait for him.” She kept her smile up, but there wasn’t any mistaking the venomous bite to her words. She wiped her hands on the front of her petticoat. “I have enough on my hands in the kitchen, you’ve got the whole of the cooks just about ready to jump from their trousers.”

He gruffed out a small laugh. “Very well, Miss Dulcet.”

In the cramped, overheated space of the war room Leon stood perched over his war table, a hand on his chin stroking through the small bit of scruff that had accumulated there. It was barely lit by the pane glass window. At his sides were his two brothers, Victor and Alexandre who sat like crows upon his shoulders, watching as their brother contemplated the large map of Wallachia.

“If we just had a bit more time we could cross over the border to chase it.” Leon traced a finger up a river crossing the map, tapping a few times when he came to the Romanian border.

“Romania would see us die first.” Alexandre chided from his right, fiddling with some of the books on the shelf against the wall, before pulling a small volume and cracking it open. “We should send a missive to the nearest fort of His Grace and be done with it.” He turned a few pages before turning back to his brothers.

“And what if they don’t know how?” Victor responded, pounding a fist on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “Do we just leave a vampire to roam Romania unopposed?” He gestures to his older brothers.

“There is no way that the Romanian army is going to let us traipse about their country unattended looking for a vampire that they don’t even believe exists!” Alexandre snapped his book shut, before turning to pull another off the shelf. “We need to figure out how to appeal to the government before we even set foot on their land.” He tapped on the cover a few times, showing off the title  _ Etiquette for International Affairs.  _ “Or we risk getting chased out of another country!”

Victor snapped up from his chair, clenching his fists. “We were not chased from anywhere Alex!” He pointed a finger at his brother. “And you would be wise to remember that.”

“Settle down boys.” He exercised the best ‘I’m the one in charge’ voice he could muster. Leon stood up from the table, keeping a hand firmly plastered on his chin, he moved his other now free hand to settle under his elbow. “Victor we still have that surplus of silk curtains do we not?” His youngest brother nodded. “Wonderful, now if you happen to head to Romania to sell those ugly things, and then you happen to fall upon a vampire. I suppose no laws would be broken no?”

Alexandre clasped his brother on the shoulder leaning in close to whisper to him, still holding the book tightly in his fist. “Do you really think that silk curtains could hide a vampire hunt?”

“We’re French dear brother. They don’t think we know how to do much else.” He gently scrubbed his brother’s hand away. He reared to say something else but there was a soft knock at the door. The three turned to face the far end of the small war room. Leon spoke first. “Enter please.” 

It creaked something awful, before the head stewardess popped her head into the room. “My Lord you have a guest here to see you.”

“Well can’t you tell them to wait a moment?” 

“It’s mister Molloye, my lord.”

“Ah.” He waved a hand at his brothers dismissively. “Meeting adjourned. Victor see about those silk curtains, and Alexandre get a small search party together.” They both nodded and headed for the door.

 

“Molloye you dirty bastard!” Leon chimed in his thick accent as he sauntered into his solar, extend out his arms to welcome his friend. The door closed with a deep  _ thunk _ behind him and his tailored boots clacked on the floor as he crossed the paintings and decorated skulls of vampires and wolf-like creatures to his boorish friend. “ _ Comment vas-tu mon ami?”  _ Trefor stood in the center of the room his arms crossed. Staring intently at another painting nearly covering the wall on the right. But a smile finally graced his clean-shaven face as his friend approached him.

“Belmont, your perfume arrived five minutes before you did!” He smiled and embraced Leon as he approached. The frenchman was wrapped in inexplicable warmth and pressed hard against the metal planes of Molloye’s chest armor. “It has been too long friend.” He snaked his arms around him tighter.

“You are a treasure,” Leon moved away from him, delegating his hands to rest on his shoulders. “What brings you to my estate?” 

Molloye rest a hand on the other man’s head, ruffling the delicately placed blonde curls. “Nothing pressing. Just wanted to see how such a scrawny little weasel like you is doing in such a barren place.” He stepped away from him, beginning to wander about the room. “Wallachia is much more fit for a woodsman or a butcher, not for a merchant and his silks.”

“Fortune favors the bold my friend.” Leon retorted as he sorted his hair back into place.

Trefor snorted a laugh as he saw one of the paintings hanging just above the man’s desk. “It cannot favor the dead Leon.”

“Well it is good you are here then, to keep me from succumbing to wolves as soon as I depart from my front door!” He pat Molloye on the shoulder. “My it is good to see you again.”

“Any plans? Your stewardess said you had a meeting in the war room. Can’t imagine it’s about the new color you plan for your drapes.”

“Molloye you have no idea how close you were to being right! Must feel strange when you aren’t shitfaced or under a spell.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a request from tumblr, leave a comment if you liked, have a concern, or if you just wanna tell me I'm a fake gamer girl.


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